


clear my mind, let me lose myself

by dazeful



Series: of arrows and adventure [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Archery, Depressed Sugawara Koushi, Light Angst, Mentions of other setters, Not Beta Read, Sad Sugawara Koushi, Sugawara Koushi-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazeful/pseuds/dazeful
Summary: Suga’s breath came out in puffs of white, his uncovered skin tinged a pale pink. The wind whispered through the trees, his feet crunched through the snow. It was a symphony of noise, yet still so quiet, as the snow muffled his hearing and created a veil over the sound. The trees held snow on brown limbs and evergreen limbs, the red targets stuck out like beacons in this neutral toned landscape.Freezing fingers notched an arrow, coat covered arms shaking with the weight of the bowstring as he pulled back. He was pushing it, the drawback was too heavy, but he wanted to feel the burn in his muscles when he woke the next morning. The first target stood fifteen yards away, standing tall in the middle of the forest path. Suga inhaled, eyes focused. He exhaled, loosing the arrow.(Or, Sugawara takes his frustration out on the archery range.)
Series: of arrows and adventure [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675888
Comments: 7
Kudos: 103





	clear my mind, let me lose myself

_ “Nothing clears a troubled mind like shooting a bow.”  _

_ 𑁋Fred Bear _

Sugawara Koushi sighed, kicked snow off his boots and stepped into the Range lobby. “Ah, Sugawara-chan! I didn’t think anyone would be out today!” The woman at the front desk greeted him, turning her computer on. “Want to shoot inside today? It is terribly cold.”

“No,” Suga pulled his light blue scarf tighter around his neck, “I want to shoot in the woods, if that’s okay?” He fished his ID out and handed it to the older woman, making idle conversation while she checked him in.

The woman sighed when he turned to leave, “Did something happen at school again? You always go out there when you’re upset.” She smiled, Suga liked the way her eyes crinkled when she did, he found it comforting. “You know, you can always talk to one of us. We may be old, but we can offer good advice!” She went off on a tangent, musing over her own school days. 

The young man laughed, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” He didn’t wait for her reply, slipping out of the door and into the storage room before she could. Truth be told, Suga didn’t want to talk about what was bothering him. Didn’t want to think, just wanted to  _ feel.  _

Row after row of cases lined one wall of the storage room, on the other hung quivers, arrows, and practice bows for lessons. He strood into the empty space and made a beeline for his case, only stopping to pull a glove and arm guard from a bucket near the door. His case was on the second row of the shelf, the fading, taped nametag  _ Sugawara  _ peeking out at him. The black and silver case slid off of the shelf with little resistance, Suga lowered the object to the ground. 

He cracked the case open. Suga shot a recurve, his bow lay in pieces in the case, ready to be assembled. It had a wooden riser, or  _ body,  _ and two silvery blue limbs. His dad had gotten the bow painted for him years ago, bits of darker paint could be seen cutting through in certain spots. He bent at the hip and assembled the weapon, not bothering to put the case away when he was finished. Suga doubted anyone else would be out in this weather, anyway. 

A field style quiver was taken from the wall. Suga preferred this kind when he shot on the forest trail, as  he could move around easier in tight spaces and was able to reach the arrows better than when he used a back quiver. The leather tool was strapped to his belt, filled with carbon arrows with brightly colored, plastic fletching. He used his right hand to shoot, the bow would be held in his left hand and be pulled back by his right. Suga snapped the quiver to his belt, on his right side, and ventured back into the cold. 

Snow fell lightly from gray skies, not enough to obscure his vision, but enough to cause him to blink at an increased rate. The forest path was mostly free of snow, only around an inch on the forest floor. It was a ten minute walk from the lobby. Suga loved the biting harshness of the chilly weather, it made his blood pump, made the boy feel  _ alive.  _

Suga’s breath came out in puffs of white, his uncovered skin tinged a pale pink. The wind whispered through the trees, his feet crunched through the snow. It was a symphony of noise, yet still so quiet, as the snow muffled his hearing and created a veil over the sound. The trees held snow on brown limbs and evergreen limbs, the red targets stuck out like beacons in this neutral toned landscape. 

Freezing fingers notched an arrow, coat covered arms shaking with the weight of the bowstring as he pulled back. He was pushing it, the drawback was too heavy, but he wanted to feel the burn in his muscles when he woke the next morning. The first target stood fifteen yards away, standing tall in the middle of the forest path. Suga inhaled, eyes focused. He exhaled, loosing the arrow.

It struck red. A bit too far to the left. 

These targets had three colors, circles of blue, red, and yellow. Blue was the farthest away from the bullseye, the red circle laid inside the blue, and the yellow inside the red circle. Suga clicked his tongue, he had aimed for yellow. Had aimed for the center of the target. Another arrow flew, this time embedding itself in the yellow. A fraction under the bullseye. Better. 

Suga used archery as a coping mechanism. He didn’t,  _ couldn’t _ , get angry at school or home. But here, where there was nothing and no one to see him. It was just so frustrating! Suga wanted to be the one to set for his team, it was his last year and he wanted to be the one to take them to nationals.  _ But Kageyama.  _ Kageyama, who was so damn talented and held so much potential, swooped in and dethroned him. 

Suga didn’t hate Kageyama. No, no, he didn’t hate  _ Kageyama.  _ He hated the opportunity that had been stolen from him. 

A third arrow struck, this time hitting the center. Suga made a pleased noise low in his throat, striding over to the target and gently removing the bolts from the target. Here was something he couldn’t be bested at. Archery needed strength, focus, patience, and the ability to remain constant. Most of all, an archer was able to keep their emotions in check. Traits that Suga had perfected, honed and practiced until his arms gave out and hands bled. 

The next target was deeper in the woods. Suga let his mind wander, thinking of other setters, ones that were all so extraordinary. What did they have that Suga didn’t? Why couldn’t he pull some amazing stunt like Oikawa or Kenma? He blinked away the snow, notched an arrow at the target and hit yellow. His breathing started to accelerate, mind running far from the range and to the court he knew so well. Why? Why was he not good enough? Would he ever be?

Hands tightened on the wooden body of his bow, Suga hissed as he his blisters rubbed against the object. Feelings of frustration, of not being good enough hit him in full force like a great ocean wave. The man sunk to his knees, the bow cluttered to his side, useless, and arrows jostled roughly as the quiver hit the ground. Cold seeped into his skin as the snow turned to water under his warm body. Fat, angry tears ran down his face. He moved a hand to cover his eyes, his other sought purchase on the freezing ground. 

“God. Look at yourself, Koushi!” He sniffed, laughing. “This is pathetic.” Something in the treeline shook a dusting of snow down upon his bare neck. Flashes of setters doing extraordinary feats danced behind his closed eyes. Kageyama setting quicker than Suga could comprehend. Oikawa’s killer serve. Kenma glance feint. Akaashi pulling off a toss rebound. 

Suga grit his teeth. His usual lazy smile, was gone, replaced with an ugly grimace. He rose to his feet, dusting himself and his bow off, and started to shoot again. The arrows flew harder now, embedding deeper into the target as though propelled by Suga’s raw frustration. Yellow, yellow, yellow. Suga didn’t miss again. 

The sun had sunk by the time he made it back to the lobby to check out. The woman sat with a hot chocolate ready, “Welcome back. Enjoy yourself?” A hidden meaning lay behind that question. The actuality of it meaning,  _ did you work your anger out?  _

“It was pleasant,” He crossed the distance between him and the front desk and took the warm drink, “Thank you!” He took one, long swallow. The woman didn’t inquire about the way Suga slammed the mug down when he finished. “Well, I’ll be off.” 

“Will you be back tomorrow?” 

Silver hair glinted in the yellow light of the lobby, casting a halo over Suga’s face. “No, I think I have it all worked out now.” He flashed her a playful grin. “We’re prepping for a match next week, I’ll come back then.”

She returned his smile. “I’ll be here.” 

Suga left, walking home through the falling snow. He held his cold hands out, let snowflakes land on soft fingers and melt into pools of biting water. Yes, Suga would be back. He always went back. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My first work for Haikyuu so it might be OOC lmao. Comments are appreciated


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